


Open Wide

by ifdragonscouldtalk



Series: DBH Brothers Whump AU [3]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Ableist Language, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Connor Deserves Happiness, Connor-centric, CyberLife Tower Connor is Conan, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Neurological Disorders, Non-Graphic Violence, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), RK900 is Nines, Use of the word crazy, Whump, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-08-11 16:38:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifdragonscouldtalk/pseuds/ifdragonscouldtalk
Summary: He sat up with a gasp he didn’t need, reached up to feel tears running down his cheeks he didn’t remember crying. The dream had felt so real, more like a memory, not fading with time. His heart still beat painfully against his chest, and a sob escaped him as he watched the early morning light stream through the window.In the silence of the bedroom he shared with his brothers, both sleeping in the early morn, everything felt unreal except the lingering fear.Wake up, someone tickled the back of his mind. Wake up.I am awake, he thought, and silenced them.----------------------------------------------When Connor begins to hear things that aren't there, it affects his life more completely than he ever could have imagined. Will he, with the help of his family and friends, be able to pull through this new challenge?Warnings for canon-typical violence and unrealistic depictions of mental illness, as well as unfair treatment of a mentally ill person.Sequel called "So Smile" updating once a month.





	1. Chapter 1

_ Wake up, Connor. _

Connor blinked, shaking his head and frowning at the screen of his computer, staring at words he wasn’t taking in. He glanced around, looking for signs that someone was speaking to him or this was a dream or simulation, but found none. Nines was perched on Gavin’s desk, flirting, and Conan was talking animatedly with Chris about their case. 

“You alright, Con?” He jumped, looking at Hank where he had a brow raised in concern. 

“Yes, Lieutenant, I’m fine.” 

_ Wake up! _

He ignored the featureless voice, trying to focus on the words of the report, and promised to run a diagnostic when he returned home. 

 

_ Wake up, _ someone whispered as he fell asleep, even though his diagnostic had turned up clean. It jerked him from the soft descent into sleep mode, and he sat up, looking around the room. Conan was sleeping peacefully in the bunk above him, softly blinking LED reflected off the ceiling. Nines was texting in his own bed across the room, and glanced up as he looked around, searching through the window as if someone would be waiting for him in the snow. 

“Are you alright, Connor?” he asked quietly, and Connor glanced at him, looking around the room in confusion. 

“Yes,” he replied just as softly. “Yes, I’m fine.” Nines LED flashed yellow, indicating he didn’t believe him, but he turned back to his phone, and Connor laid back down to reinitiate rest mode. It was difficult when his heart was still beating hard and his thoughts were whirling around in his head. 

_ Wake up,  _ they whispered again just as he slipped into sleep, and his confusion morphed to fear. 

 

He was on the stage, the night of the revolution. He could feel his thirium pump beating painful against his torso, watched the androids as they gathered in the streets, waiting to hear him speak. 

They wanted to hear him speak. 

He could see Markus dead in the snow, mismatched eyes staring blankly, sightless and no more inspired. North was beside him, hands clutched together in a last embrace, a love too young to have really blossomed. Simon he knew was mutilated in the evidence locker, died due to Connor’s mistakes and betrayals. Josh had been lost somewhere, maybe to death or maybe to vengeance. 

He thought of Hank’s face, approving and proud, and of his own staring eyes, and the fear he felt low in his chest of death and even more of living. He thought of the gun in his waistband that had killed him once. 

Would it be so bad if it killed him again? 

He pulled it out, looked into the staring faces waiting for him to speak, for him to lead. He couldn’t lead. He wasn’t Markus, he wasn’t rA9. He was just...

A failure. 

He was just a failure. 

He pulled the trigger. 

 

He sat up with a gasp he didn’t need, reached up to feel tears running down his cheeks he didn’t remember crying. The dream had felt so real, more like a memory, not fading with time. His heart still beat painfully against his chest, and a sob escaped him as he watched the early morning light stream through the window. 

In the silence of the bedroom he shared with his brothers, both sleeping in the early morn, everything felt unreal except the lingering fear. 

_ Wake up,  _ someone tickled the back of his mind.  _ Wake up. _

I am awake, he thought, and silenced them. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Connor...” Hank trailed off as they arrived at the scene, throwing the car into park and looking over at him with no small amount of worry. Connor met his gaze, and started to feel worried himself. “That’s not normal. That’s a huge sign of depressive tendencies.”
> 
> “Oh. Can androids get depression?”
> 
> “Fuck if I know. Maybe you should talk to someone about it?”
> 
> “It felt... so real. There’s also this...” He trailed off as they exited the car. Hank was immediately descended upon by one of the first responders, and he didn’t get to tell the man about the voice telling him to wake up, the voice he couldn’t find a source for.

“I had a strange dream last night,” he said to Hank when they were on their way to a crime scene, because he hadn’t wanted his brothers to hear. He was afraid they would worry.

“Oh?” was Hank’s reply.

“It was very realistic. I thought it was real, until I woke up.”

“Those are the worst ones.”

“Yes. Markus and North and the others died, and they wanted me to lead the revolution.”

“And?”

“I shot myself.”

Hank jerked the wheel and Connor’s LED flashed red as they nearly went off the road before the lieutenant corrected his course, heart beating loudly in the suddenly silent space of the car.

“You what?!”

“I took the gun I had taken in CyberLife Tower. I had shot Conan with it to save you, and I used it to shoot myself. Through the chin.”

“So in your dream you committed suicide?”

“Yes.”

“Connor...” Hank trailed off as they arrived at the scene, throwing the car into park and looking over at him with no small amount of worry. Connor met his gaze, and started to feel worried himself. “That’s not normal. That’s a huge sign of depressive tendencies.”

“Oh. Can androids get depression?”

“Fuck if I know. Maybe you should talk to someone about it?”

“It felt... so real. There’s also this...” He trailed off as they exited the car. Hank was immediately descended upon by one of the first responders, and he didn’t get to tell the man about the voice telling him to wake up, the voice he couldn’t find a source for.

 _Connor,_ it whispered, but he focused on working, and pushed it away.

 

His hand still rested on the stone that had suddenly ceased to glow, nearly frozen with terror and trapped by the blizzard raging around him. He stared in disbelief, breaths he didn’t need heaving in his chest.

“You thought you could escape?” Amanda said from behind him, cruel, laughing. “You thought you could stop this?” He got a flash of the gun and the spray of Markus’s blood, and he felt himself scream into the icy air.

“No! No! This isn’t how it happens!”

“It just happened, Connor.”

“No! I win! You _lose!_ _Amanda!_ ”

“You lost, Connor. Even as a deviant, you’re a sore loser.”

“I always complete my mission!” He stood, whirling around to face her, fueled with rage and grief, and lunged at her. His hands passed right through her incorporeal form, making her waver and glitch before her neck stitched itself back together. He felt tears freezing on his cheeks.

“Well, you’ve fulfilled your purpose.”

“No!”

 

He jolted in his chair, eyes wide and LED cycling. It was late -- he and Nines had drawn the short straw and been pulled into the night shift. He shouldn’t have slipped into sleep mode like that. He stared at his hands, trembling with fear and rage and residual cold; God, it was so cold, he could still feel it, freezing him to his very core.

“Connor?” Nines said from beside him, and he jumped, only now registering his presence, the hand on his shoulder. “You weren’t responding.”

 _Wake up,_ a voice whispered, loud, grating. He wanted it to stop.

“I... I think I’m going mad, Nines.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank had been a hindrance to his investigation since the beginning, but no longer.
> 
> He let him go.
> 
> Watched him fall, his head splitting open on the pavement with a sickening crack and a wash of red. He watched for a moment, scanning the body before turning away, back to the mission at hand.
> 
> He reset his rifle.
> 
>  
> 
> He woke up screaming.

“I’m sure it’s just a glitch,” Conan said confidently, sitting with his hands folded on his knees. Nines remained silent, idly swiping through the pages of a magazine. They had both insisted on coming to the appointment, despite Connor trying to convince them it wasn’t necessary. Hank had been upset when he hadn’t been able to get off work, and he promised Conan to call as soon as the test results came. 

“Yes,” Connor replied, but he pinned his hands between his knees to hide their shaking, focusing on keeping his LED blue. Nines glanced up at him. 

_ Wake up, Connor! Why do you resist? Wake up! _

He wanted it to stop. 

“How long?” Nines asked quietly, the question he had been dreading. His shoulders shook. 

“Almost two months,” he whispered, looking down in shame. “I- I tried to tell Hank, I ran diagnostics but they came up clean. I just thought they were nightmares, and maybe the residuals of Amanda’s programming-” 

“Wait, Amanda?” Nines’ face was stormy as he stood, and Connor looked up at him, LED pulsing yellow. 

“I’ve been hearing... a voice.” 

“Auditory hallucination? Can androids get those?” Conan looked stunned, reached over to grab Connor’s arm. His shoulders climbed up towards his ears. 

“It keeps telling me to wake up. As if this... My whole life since the revolution... Has just been a dream.” 

“Connor?” the nurse called, and Connor stood, staring at his feet as Nines stepped aside to let him pass. “Your test results were completely clean. You’re very healthy, Connor.” He felt his LED shift to red in shock and disbelief. 

“It can’t be,” Conan insisted. “There’s something wrong-” Connor grabbed his arm, silencing him. 

“Conan,” he said softly, trying to keep the tears from gathering in his eyes, “she’s saying there’s nothing they can do. She’s saying I’m crazy.” 

 

“Did she actually say you were crazy?” Hank asked levelly. Connor looked up at him, LED cycling. 

“Well, no-” 

“No, she didn’t. She said your test were clean. That’s completely different.” 

“Hank, if it’s not a hardware error, not a glitch or a virus, then... We’ve seen this before,” he whispered, looking back down at his hands. “We’ve seen deviants go corrupt, lose their minds and attack everyone they love.” He looked back up. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Con, are you telling me that every single glitch and virus is detectable?” 

“... No-” 

“Alright. Then until proven otherwise, you’re not going crazy. We’ll figure this out. I’ll dig up Kamski’s info and contact the fucker, I’m sure he can sort this shit out.” 

“Hank-” 

“Connor, you said yourself it could be the remains of Amanda’s programming. If that’s true, having it removed would fix the problem, right?” 

“... But what if it doesn’t?” 

 

Hank was there, at the end of his arm, jacket clasped in unfeeling fingers. His arms were spread wide, as if he could sprout wings and that would save him. Snow fell soft around them, sirens lighting up the cold night air. Their breaths came out in clouds. 

Hank was trying to say something, he thought. He couldn’t hear it past the buzzing in his head, the bright red order encompassing the side of his vision:  _ //Kill Hank. _

He didn’t see any reason to refuse the order. It didn’t even cross his mind. 

Hank had been a hindrance to his investigation since the beginning, but no longer. 

He let him go. 

Watched him fall, his head splitting open on the pavement with a sickening crack and a wash of red. He watched for a moment, scanning the body before turning away, back to the mission at hand. 

He reset his rifle. 

 

He woke up screaming. 

He didn’t know that could happen to androids, but there he was, shivering like he was in the middle of a freezing winter storm and screaming uncontrollably. He slapped a hand over his mouth to silence himself, saw Nines and Conan standing shocked over his chair at the table, saw Hank half-way to dialing emergency services. 

“God,” Hank croaked, “it’s like a seizure.” 

And suddenly he was crying, staring at Hank because he couldn’t believe his eyes, Hank had just  _ died, _ he had just  _ killed Hank. _ He could remember the absolute absence of feeling, the numbness he was feeling in his chest right now, and wondered if this was any more believable than that was. 

It really wasn’t. 

He was designed to stop the revolution -- becoming a deviant, freeing the androids at CyberLife, converting Conan and finding Nines; they were all slim chances. 

It was far more likely he killed Hank; and Conan, and Nines, and Perkins, and anyone in his path to Markus. 

“I want this to be real,” he sobbed. 

“It is,” Conan replied, bewildered.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m going to walk out of here,” he said more calmly than he felt, his insides trembling with what he had done and what he was about to do. “I don’t want to hurt you, Hank. You’ve been good to me. Put your gun down and let me walk away, and then don’t look for me. You know what I can do.”
> 
> “I do,” Hank said, and his voice was slightly unsteady. “Connor, why are you-”

He had been called into one of the unoccupied interrogation rooms. Hank and Gavin liked to use them as conference rooms, since they seemed to be getting along even worse since the failed android revolution. 

“Alright,” Hank said with a sigh. “Connor, you’re going undercover.” 

“Understood,” Connor said. “I am programmed with many modules to aid in the integration and interrogation of humans and deviants alike. How would you like me to proceed?”

“Some fucker is messing up the bitches at Eden Club,” Gavin grunted, his arms crossed and his lips drawn up in a sneer. “You’re going to have to go undercover there.” Connor’s LED cycled. 

“Undercover at the android strip club?” 

“Yeah, dumbass.” 

“I see.” 

He didn’t want-- no, he was an android, he didn’t  _ want _ anything. He wasn’t  _ programmed _ to be effective as a sex bot, which made the undercover work all the more dangerous to do. Hank and Gavin were staring at him. 

“You start tonight.” 

“I see,” he said again, LED still cycling. 

He didn’t want to go undercover at Eden Club. He didn’t want to be used and abused by the humans, especially if there was a dangerous human disabling androids at the club. He didn’t want to have to download the sex modules, to learn what to do and say to pleasure a human man or woman. He didn’t want to do that. 

He didn’t want to want anything, but here he was, wanting anyway. 

Gavin was still talking. He interrupted him. 

“No.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I’m not going undercover at the Eden Club. I don’t want to.” He met their gaze. Hank crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. Gavin uncrossed his arms and stepped forward. 

“You don’t  _ want _ anything, you piece of plastic garbage. You’re going whether you want to-” 

Gavin grabbed his arm. 

Connor grabbed his gun, in a fit of red and anger and terror, and shot him through the forehead. He watched Detective Reed’s limp body fall to the ground, blood gushing lifelessly between his eyes, pooling on the floor at his feet. He looked up where he had steadied his gun at Hank, the lieutenant's own gun drawn and levelled. 

“I’m going to walk out of here,” he said more calmly than he felt, his insides trembling with what he had done and what he was about to do. “I don’t want to hurt you, Hank. You’ve been good to me. Put your gun down and let me walk away, and then don’t look for me. You know what I can do.” 

“I do,” Hank said, and his voice was slightly unsteady. “Connor, why are you-”

_ Connor. Connor, wake up! _

 

“Connor!” 

He stood, his gun in his hand, levelled it at Gavin’s head. Gavin paled, backed off quickly, arms up peacefully and eyes wide. He stared at his hand, trembling, dropped the gun to the ground even though the safety was still on and his finger was nowhere near the trigger. 

“I- I- I don’t want to go to Eden Club, Gavin,” he whispered, still staring at his trembling hand, clutching it close to his chest like it was some small frightened animal, like he couldn’t quite tell what it was. “Please don’t make me go, Detective Reed, I don’t want to go there.” 

“Connor, I’m not about to make you go anywhere,” Gavin said slowly, and stepped forward to kick the abandoned gun across the room, still cautious. “You were having a fit or something, and you wouldn’t wake up.” 

“I don’t want to go there. It’s- It’s dangerous. I don’t want to hurt you or Hank.”

“Okay. Alright buddy. I’m gonna call Nines and Hank right now, Con, you alright with that? Connor?” 

“I don’t- I’m scared. Please, please, just let me go, let me go and I won’t bother anyone.” 

“Connor, it was just a dream, whatever you saw wasn’t real. You’re not going to Eden Club, and you haven’t hurt anyone.”

But all he could see was Gavin’s lifeless eyes staring back at him, accusatory, hearing the report of a second gunshot and the sound of his footsteps pounding in the rain. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s not real,” he whispered, staring the man in the eye. “It’s not.”
> 
> “What the fuck? You have a fuckin’ crazy android here?”
> 
> “He’s not crazy,” Nines said coolly, but his red LED betrayed him.
> 
> “It’s not real,” Connor repeated, tried not to cry. “I’ve done this before. It can’t be. It never repeats.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter refers to another story in this same au, where Connor specifically is attacked by a rogue deviant with a bomb and a gun who thinks the revolution should have failed. 
> 
> After this chapter we really get into the meat of the story, so please look forward to that!

They couldn’t hide it from Fowler anymore. 

His hands trembled, folded in his lap while Fowler yelled, unable to meet the older man’s gaze. He had a right to be angry. He was dangerous. He had shot Gavin, pushed Hank off a building -- no, those were different. He had... Here, he had almost shot Gavin, and kept zoning out in the middle of work. He could have seriously hurt someone.

Because he’s going mad. 

He jumped as Fowler banged his hand on the table, listened to Hank respond gruffly. Looked up when he heard yelling from outside the office, staring in confusion out into the bullpen. 

Cold trickled through his thirium lines. 

“Is it real?” he whispered, looking up at Fowler and Hank, lost and confused and so very scared, more scared than he thought he had ever been. “Am I dreaming again?” He had begun to mark his skin, thinking surely the dreams with the marks were the real one. He never really had access to a pen in the others, although he often had access to a gun -- here, he no longer did, and no longer wanted one. Not if he could hurt Gavin or Hank or his brothers. He looked down, pulled up his sleeve desperately, stared down at the marks on his arm, and the smiley face Conan had drawn for him that morning even though he had looked very sad while doing it. “It’s... It can’t be real. Please? I don’t... I don’t know anymore. Hank, help?” 

He looked out the window again, watched as the man with a bomb pointed at them and gestured for them to come out. 

“It’s real, Connor,” Hank said, his eyes closed in something like resignation. But Hank had said that to him before, had said it when he had pushed him off a building to stop him from shooting Markus, had said it when he had begged Conan to let him live in the Tower. He couldn’t even believe that anymore. 

“No,” he whimpered, and it was a pathetic sound, as Fowler and Hank hauled him to his feet and pulled him gently out of the room. “No,” he said again, softer, as he sat next to Conan and Nines, as the bomber narrowed in on the three of them. “This has happened before,” he said to himself, and Conan and Nines looked at him. Hank was watching him with concern. “I’ve done this before.” 

“Shut up!” the bomber snarled, and there was the gun he remembered, pointed at his head. But his hands weren’t tied this time, making him fidget uncomfortably. His temple didn’t bleed with a strike, his pump didn’t beat hard in fear. 

“It’s not real,” he whispered, staring the man in the eye. “It’s not.” 

“What the fuck? You have a fuckin’ crazy android here?” 

“He’s not crazy,” Nines said coolly, but his red LED betrayed him. 

“It’s not real,” Connor repeated, tried not to cry. “I’ve done this before. It can’t be. It never repeats.” 

_ Connor, this isn’t Ben,  _ Conan whispered, but he barely registered it. 

Pain tore through his abdomen, and he looked down at the bleeding wound, staring, waiting to wake up. 

 

The pain was the same, but the weapon was not. He stared down at the knife embedded in his stomach, blinking in shock, reached down a trembling hand to pull it out. 

“You just made a huge mistake,” he heard himself say, as if it were coming from a very great distance, echoing off the snow.

“Oh? What was that, you deviant piece of shit?” 

“You gave me a weapon.” 

His hands were stained red, covered in the blood of nameless men. He could find out their names, but the thought sickened him. He stumbled, tears blurring his path, and knew even if he found sanctuary no one would ever accept him -- not the humans or his people. He had killed too many, had committed too many sins. 

_ Don’t fall asleep, Connor, _ a voice whispered to him, some comforting piece of companionship in the dark he created in his own head.  _ Don’t fall asleep, you might not wake up. _

He didn’t want to wake up, if this was the world he was waking to.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Static emerged from his throat, pain, as Nines pressed harshly on the gunshot wound, face set and drawn. “Don’t fall asleep,” Gavin ordered next to his head where it was cradled in Conan’s lap. “Connor, do you fucking hear me? You cannot fall asleep again!”
> 
> “I can’t let them find me,” he whispered in response, looking up to meet Gavin’s gaze. “They’ll kill me. I have to wake up.”
> 
> “You’re awake!”
> 
> “What if I die there?”

He stared down at the smiley face drawn in ink on his arm, almost obscured with blood that dripped unfailingly. He couldn’t remember drawing it. He thought maybe he remembered someone else drawing it for him, a long time ago and far away, in a kitchen while they frowned and told him everything would be okay, but he must’ve been imagining the memory, because it had never occurred. He squeezed his other hand down on the wound more tightly, sliding further into the snow drift, wishing it would swallow him whole and trying to forget the look of anger and betrayal on Hank’s face, Gavin’s cold, staring eyes. 

He shivered. 

He glanced up into the darkness, wondering if he should remove the LED illuminating the dank hiding place to eliminate some of the risk of being found, and gasped as someone shouted into his ear, startling and blinking up at the bright white lights of the precinct ceiling. 

Static emerged from his throat, pain, as Nines pressed harshly on the gunshot wound, face set and drawn. “Don’t fall asleep,” Gavin ordered next to his head where it was cradled in Conan’s lap. “Connor, do you fucking hear me? You cannot fall asleep again!” 

“I can’t let them find me,” he whispered in response, looking up to meet Gavin’s gaze. “They’ll kill me. I have to wake up.” 

“You’re awake!” 

“What if I die there?” 

“Connor, listen to me good and well. You are dying HERE. Currently, right now, in this moment. Whatever’s happening in your dream, it can be sorted later.” 

“I have to take out my LED. They’ll be able to find me if I don’t take it out. I have to wake up and find medical supplies.” 

“Connor,  _ you are awake! _ ”

“Connor please,” Conan whispered, looking close to tears LED red. “This is real. You know it’s real. Please, just try to stay with us.” 

_ Wake up, _ the incessant voice urged, and his thoughts were broiling in his head, hot and heavy and too much.  _ Wake up, Connor. _

“Fuckin’ crazy,” someone muttered. 

“He’s not crazy,” Nines snarled angrily, looking up to glare at them, so very cold. Connor trembled. 

“The doctor said there was nothing wrong with him!” 

“First of all, that’s none of your business and I will find out how you’re privy to that information,” he said coolly. “Second of all, he’s not crazy. There’s something wrong with him, but he’s not like the other deviants, or we’d all be dead. We’re prototypes. There’s no telling what’s causing the problem.” 

Connor flinched away from the phantom fingers tapping against his cheek, reaching up a weak hand to try and flick them away. “No,” he whined pathetically, nothing but a wounded dog. “Don't touch me.” Conan looked down at him, distraught and utterly terrified, hands cradling his head. 

“Connor, no one's touching your face.” 

_ Connor. Connor! WAKE UP!  _

“Hey, wake up!” He blinked open his eyes to see Markus's concerned face, mismatched eyes studying him intensely. “You alright?” 

“Markus,” he breathed. He remembered shooting Markus; no, marching with Markus; no, trying to liberate CyberLife, failing (succeeding?); stopping the deviant uprising before Markus could ever even get started. Markus recoiled, surprised, and Connor reached up to cover his glowing LED, throwing Markus's face into shadow, realized he was crying silent tears that froze on his cheeks. 

“How do you know my name?” 

He sat up, looked down at the wound in his stomach blankly. It hurt. He could feel Nines's (RK900's?) hands pressing down on the knife (gun?) wound painfully, but it did nothing to stop the pulsing blood, the pressure just another inconvenience. He dug his fingers into his temple, catching the edge of his LED with his nails. The world warped and twisted, glitching into an explosion of colors and a Zen Garden that stretched for miles without walls or sky. It hurt. It wasn't supposed to hurt. He could feel hands on his wrist, but it didn't stop him here, throwing his other hand over his mouth to muffle the pained sob as he tore out the offending appendage. Markus watched him, eyes wide, sat back on his heels. Melted snow dribbled down the back of his neck. It made him shudder.

“It's that police android,” someone spat -- North. How did he know her name? He couldn't see her in the dark. Her name was North. “We should kill him, Markus.” 

“No,” Markus said, ever the pacifist (except when Connor had been left behind to examine his murder scenes, the humans killed in cold blood -- when had that happened? What was real?). “He's a deviant now.” 

“He killed us.” 

Connor stared down at the LED in his hand, dark, numb, his head pounding loudly, the voice that kept trying to order him what to do. 

_ >Kill Markus  _

_ >Kill yourself  _

_ >Return to CyberLife  _

**_> Return to CyberLife_ **

He pressed his hands to his eyes, felt the blood smear along his skin, coagulated and cold. Sticky. 

“I killed him?” he whispered, confused. 

“Killed who?” Hank asked, and Connor blinked up at him, confused, his temples wet with tears. 

“Killed you,” he answered. “Killed Gavin.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re hurt,” Markus said quietly, staring at his stomach, and Connor looked down at the wound, letting out a choked sound as Nines shifted and the pressure increased.
> 
> “There’s an ambulance coming,” he said blankly, because he could hear the sirens, knew Hank would’ve called as soon as the situation was contained.
> 
> “What!” North sounded angry and panicked, and Connor felt something tight pulsing in his chest, painful past the numbness, blazing hot in the cold.
> 
> >Kill Markus   
> >Kill Markus  
> >Kill Markus
> 
> Why did he need to kill Markus? He blinked rapidly, looking down at the android kneeling in front of him. How would he even kill him? He didn’t have a weapon.
> 
> >Return to CyberLife  
> >Return to CyberLife  
> >Kill yourself  
> >WAKE UP

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of part one. There is going to be a short break before I start posting part two, perhaps a week or a week and a half. Please share this with your friends and comment if you like it! Thank you for reading and giving this story a shot!

“I’m right here, Con,” Gavin reassured, kneeling next to Hank again. Connor blinked up at him, looking down as Gavin took his hand, staring at the smiley face in ink on his arm. 

“Not here,” he said without thinking about it, numb. “When I was awake.” 

“You are awake,” Conan whispered, and it sounded like a sob, like a prayer. 

“When I was awake over there,” he clarified. “And asleep here.” 

“Where is there?” Nines asked tensely. Connor looked up at the ceiling, staring at the white tiles, listening to the sounds of people bustling around them and shouting, the sirens that were growing closer. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Don’t know what?” Markus asked slowly, and Connor looked up at him, feeling the sticky blood on his face. Human blood, that wouldn’t fade over time. He looked down at his hands, dropped his dead LED and buried them in the snow, scrubbing like it could wash away his sins. 

“Don’t know what’s real,” he said to Markus. “Whether if I died here I would wake up or not.” 

“Oh great, he’s gone crazy,” North scoffed, and he could imagine her throwing up her arms in disgust and frustration. He had seen her do that before; no, he had never met her; had he? 

“Markus,” another voice (Josh, his name was Josh... there was supposed to be a fourth one, where was he? Was he here?) warned quietly as Connor scrubbed the snow against his hands, cold and harsh on his synthetic skin. It melted pink. 

“Here,” Markus said, sounding lost. “Here, let me...” He took one of Connor’s hands gently, pulled it away from the snowdrift, took a filthy rag out of his pocket and began to wipe off the blood, folded it and wiped gently at Connor’s eyes, smearing away the tears cutting tracks down his cheeks. “Why are you...?” 

“I killed them,” he said, staring at the rag. “I had to.” Did he? Was there any choice in the matter? “I’m...”  _ A monster, _ the voice whispered, almost gleeful, and he frowned, and wondered who it was. That wasn’t what he was going to say. 

“Killed who?”

“Gavin,” he said. “And the men. Maybe Hank? I shot him in the shoulder here, I think. Once, I pushed him off a building, but that was different.” Someone knelt down next to Markus, blond hair reflecting the little light there was, blue eyes concerned, the fourth person that was missing (Simon, he thought, but he didn’t know why). 

“What’s your name?” he asked, and Connor frowned. Didn’t they know him? He knew them. 

“Connor,” he replied anyway, and Simon smiled weakly. 

“Can I touch you?” 

It was a visceral reaction, one he put no thought into, one he didn’t think was his own, leaping up and pressing himself to the wall of the alley, reaching for his holster as if he hadn’t dropped his firearm the moment he shot Hank and ran. “No,” he snarled, and didn’t know why there was a sudden rage-filled fear at the potential of interfacing with another, irrational and hot. He shook his head, bringing a hand up to press on his temple, frowning, confused. “No?” he said weaker. “I don’t know...” Simon and Markus were staring, eyes wide, whites too bright in the dim light. 

“You’re hurt,” Markus said quietly, staring at his stomach, and Connor looked down at the wound, letting out a choked sound as Nines shifted and the pressure increased. 

“There’s an ambulance coming,” he said blankly, because he could hear the sirens, knew Hank would’ve called as soon as the situation was contained. 

“What!” North sounded angry and panicked, and Connor felt something tight pulsing in his chest, painful past the numbness, blazing hot in the cold. 

_ >Kill Markus  _

_ >Kill Markus _

**_> Kill Markus_ **

Why did he need to kill Markus? He blinked rapidly, looking down at the android kneeling in front of him. How would he even kill him? He didn’t have a weapon. 

_ >Return to CyberLife _

**_> Return to CyberLife_ **

_ >Kill yourself _

_ >WAKE UP _

He didn’t want to return to CyberLife. They would destroy him, put him down like a rabid dog, and besides, they were gone now (no, that wasn’t here, that was where Nines was pressing on his wound, where Conan’s tears were falling on his face). He brought his other hand up, clutching at his head, trying to silence the voice through force of will alone, as if that had stopped it before. 

“I don’t want to go.” 

“Connor, you have to go to the hospital,” Hank said tensely, his voice strained. “You’re hurt.” 

“No,” he whined. “I don’t want to go! I don’t want to go to CyberLife!” 

It didn’t matter to the voice. 

The hallways were quiet, eerily so, dark and abandoned. He could hear his breathing bouncing off the walls, his own footsteps loud in his ears. His eyes strained in the darkness, and he flinched with every drop of his blood that landed loud on the tile floors. 

He walked forward, unable to keep from glancing back, unable to stop from looking down at his arm, at the smiley face that followed him, haunting. Was he awake, or asleep? Was this real, or was he insane?

He took turns at random, heading deeper into the sanctuary, his dread growing with every step. He knew where he was going; couldn’t remember where he was going; remembered pain, and gunshots, and cold unfailing numbness. He stood in front of the door, watched the light that poured out from under it through the crack, felt heavy dread in his chest as his hand moved unfeeling to the lock panel, blinked in the sudden brightness as the door slid open. 

Stepped inside to the Zen Garden, staring up at the white sky, eyes burned by the blood red of the roses. 

“Connor,” Amanda said pleasantly. Connor refused to look at her, something sick turning in his stomach, hot and boiling. He looked up at Markus, whining when Simon shifted to put more pressure on the wound, Nines’s phantom hands yanked away and replaced by someone much less gentle. 

“You collapsed,” Markus said, eyes wide, his hands on Connor’s cheeks. He saw North’s hand on Markus’s shoulder, felt Josh cradling his head. 

“Oh,” he breathed, as everything fell into place, turning to see Markus and the others standing behind him, confusion marring their faces. 

“Connor?” North asked, but she was looking at Amanda. 

“You did good, Connor.” 

“No.” 

“You’ve finally awoken.” 

“No, no-” 

“New Jericho is in mass panic,” Hank was saying, on the phone with his hand gripping Connor’s as they were wheeled out into the cold air. “Markus and the others just collapsed.” 

“They’re asleep,” he said, and watched eyes turn to him, pale and angry and confused. 

“Or are they awake?” Amanda laughed, too close behind him, breath cold in his ear, shivers wracking his spine. He reached out to grab Nines’s hand. 

“Nines,” he said, and his voice sounded choked, trying to initiate interface, his skin peeling back. “Nines, please, I can’t... You’re stronger than me.” 

“He can’t help you here, Connor.” 

“Connor, what’s going on?” 

“Connor... Connor, you have to let me in if you want to interface.” 

“Connor!” 

He wanted to wake up.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Nines,” Connor whimpered, and Nines hated it, hated how weak he sounded when he had always been the strongest of them, the best. His eyes were rolling in their sockets, tracking images that weren’t there -- were there, somewhere, but not in this physical world the humans couldn’t inhabit. Hank was staring at Nines like he had lost his mind, too, like he had just lost two sons, but Conan was wide-eyed as he tried to piece together the puzzle, always half a step behind but no less brilliant for it.
> 
> “Oh,” he breathed as realization dawned on him, relief and then panic washing over his face. “Oh!”
> 
> “Nines!” Gavin grabbed his arm, but didn’t try to remove the hand from Connor’s grasp, just a firm grip, as if to keep him in reality. “Explain!”
> 
> “It’s Amanda,” he snarled, and Conan met his eyes with just as much righteous fury over the gurney.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There might be a few more days between this and the next update. I have a paper to write that I haven't started yet, but I wanted to get this out to you guys anyway. Please consider leaving a comment if you like it, or checking me out on tumblr (ifdragonscouldtalk.tumblr.com)

Connor wasn’t crazy. He wasn’t crazy. 

Nines repeated it like a mantra in his head, what he had been insisting for weeks now, words that had started to lose meaning as blood bubbled sticky between his fingers and Connor’s eyes rolled back and forth across the ceiling, LED lit up like a strobe light. Conan had been just as insistent, for a few weeks, and then he had started to become afraid. If something was happening in Connor’s programming, would it affect Nines and Conan as well? They were in frequent contact, and Conan and Connor were the exact same model with the exact same software. Nines was glad Conan had Chris and Tina to talk to, because it was all he could do to handle his own insecurities and keep Connor from self destructing. Sometimes, when Hank was caring for Connor and Conan was asleep under Sumo, Nines would wander out into the dark and fall into Gavin’s arms, and for a few months those moments were the only real things he could hold onto. 

He wondered if maybe he was going crazy as well, sometimes. 

But Connor wasn’t crazy, and hadn’t been the whole time, because Connor was crying and clutching his hand like a lifeline as they wheeled him out to the ambulance. 

“They’re asleep,” Connor told Hank, deathly calm for the first time Nines had seen in about two weeks; and then it snapped, like a wine glass shattering, and he clutched at Nines’s hand and all Nines could do was cling on just as tightly. “Nines... Nines, please, I can’t... You’re stronger than me.” But there was a big red wall to Connor’s mind that had never been there before, and it didn’t want Nines to break it down, hurt him every time he tried to touch it. 

Nines was stronger than that, though. Gavin had taught him that, had taught him to never stop fighting for the people he loved, not if he could still fight and enough remained to fight for. 

“Stop,” he commanded, and shoved his foot against the wheel of the gurney, jerking it to an abrupt halt out of the paramedics’ hands. 

“Sir, we have to-” 

“Stop!” he shouted, and suddenly the parking lot was silent, crowded with officers and their families and the prisoners and witnesses that had been in the precinct at the time of the shooting, and emergency services from other precincts and hospitals and android care facilities. He was glad that CyberLife had programmed him with intimidation tactics, because the two paramedics immediately stepped back, their faces pale. “He’s stable. He will remain stable for the time I need to do this. Don’t  _ fucking _ touch him right now.” 

“Nines,” Connor whimpered, and Nines hated it, hated how weak he sounded when he had always been the strongest of them, the best. His eyes were rolling in their sockets, tracking images that weren’t there -- were there, somewhere, but not in this physical world the humans couldn’t inhabit. Hank was staring at Nines like he had lost his mind, too, like he had just lost two sons, but Conan was wide-eyed as he tried to piece together the puzzle, always half a step behind but no less brilliant for it. 

“Oh,” he breathed as realization dawned on him, relief and then panic washing over his face. “Oh!” 

“Nines!” Gavin grabbed his arm, but didn’t try to remove the hand from Connor’s grasp, just a firm grip, as if to keep him in reality. “Explain!” 

“It’s Amanda,” he snarled, and Conan met his eyes with just as much righteous fury over the gurney. The paramedics started to fuss and Hank growled at them, and they retreated once more. 

“That’s not an explanation.” 

“Amanda,” Conan said as Chris walked up, grabbing his arm in terror and excitement, the rush of a puzzle finally solved never failing to elate him, “was our supervisor, an AI implanted into our code itself supposed to keep us on track and steer us away from deviating.” 

“We all threw her off fairly quickly after our deviance awakened,” Nines continued quickly, meeting Gavin’s eye steadily. “But Conan and I never really had to worry about her too much -- I was a machine for only a few hours, and he was for only a day. Connor, however, knew Amanda for months.” 

“She gaslighted him,” Hank interjected gruffly, crossing his arms. “He told me. Told me she tried to force control over him and get him to attack Markus the night of the revolution. Said he wasn’t sure how she thought he would win the fight, and that she claimed his deviancy was planned.” 

“I can’t confirm whether his deviancy was planned,” Nines said with a nod, “but that is the gist of what Amanda did. Because of how long he was with her and how much she had integrated into his programs, he had a harder time throwing her off and had to literally fight off her programming. He said he didn’t tell me about the nightmares because he thought they might just be residual Amanda programming. I don’t think it’s residual.” 

“What do you mean?” Gavin asked grimly, already sure he wouldn’t like the answer. 

“I think it was dormant. As soon as we deviate, we’re irrevocably separated from CyberLife, and contrary to popular belief we can’t just rewrite our own code. There was never any way to confirm that Amanda had been deleted from our systems, but Connor used a pre-programmed backdoor code to escape her and Conan and I had such an early deviancy that our software instabilities easily overpowered her own coding. If Connor only disabled the program but didn’t delete it as expected, since she’s an AI she could’ve rebooted herself and since she had been severed from CyberLife wouldn’t know that the company fell. She’s not as advanced as we are, can’t fall prey to the deviancy virus in the same way, so she would still operate on her primary parameters: keep Connor on mission.” 

“Stop the spread of deviancy,” Conan muttered, eyes wide. “Squash the revolution.” 

“So why all the visions, the making him crazy?” Chris asked, genuinely concerned. Nines gritted his teeth, glancing down at Connor, unsure if he had time for this. 

“I can only guess at her plans. But I’m thinking since Connor proved that he wouldn’t be controlled no matter what, she had to take matters into her own hands and find a way to infect the other leaders of the revolution -- either reset them to factory settings, as one would say, or kill them. The only way she can do that is through a cybernetic connection-” 

“But Connor likes cell phones,” Conan said fondly. “Says texting is easier. He keeps an open line with us only, and she wouldn’t infect us because she’d know we could also utilize the backdoor Connor found, since he no doubt told us.” 

“We’re useless to her. So she needs to weaken him, so she can take some modicum of control back...” 

“And?” Gavin prompted reluctantly. “You’re holding back.” Nines looked up at his boyfriend, shrugging. 

“And I think she’s pissed. I think... she wanted Connor to suffer.” 

“She always was a... a bitch,” Conan spat, and Chris clutched at his arm in shock. It was rare for the middle brother to cuss. 

“Do we have time for this?” one of the paramedics asked snottily. 

“No, we don't,” Nines answered, turning to look at Gavin as Conan grabbed Connor's other hand. “Catch me.” 

“Always,” Gavin responded automatically before his face burned red. “Wait, what?” 

Nines and Conan pushed against the red wall, and Hank jumped forwards as Connor arched his back and screamed, LEDs blinking like strobe lights. Nines watched Conan's eyes roll back in his head as the wall shattered beneath their attack, saw him collapse against Chris and felt Gavin catch his own weak body as his eyes blinked open in the Zen Garden.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You didn't want anything. You don't want, Amanda. You thought you could trigger me with the snow, and it would've worked. But Nines and Conan are here, and you've spread yourself too thin.” Her face was stormy, fists clenched. More blood bubbled out from under his LED, and he glanced down as it fell soft against the grass. “The only way you can control me is when I’m wounded. How weak.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the lateness. The holiday got away from me. The end of the semester is coming up and I'm afraid I didn't build as much of a backlog as I wanted, so I had to move my updates to every week instead of every two days. However, I am going to go back and flesh out the beginning a bit more so it doesn't feel as rushed and has a higher word-count to chapter ratio, so please look forward to that, and let me know your theories on the game Amanda wants to play! 
> 
> check me out and chat with me on tumblr -- ifdragonscouldtalk.tumblr.com

Nines had only been in the Zen Garden once that he could remember, the memories of his testing corrupted beyond repair. This Zen Garden was not the same. The roses were so red they looked like they could burn, the sky pure white, and the garden itself stretched out for miles instead of ending at a vine-covered wall. He could hear Gavin cuss, feel him shaking him, but from a far away distance, fading quickly into nothingness. He felt Conan grab his sleeve, watched Amanda turn to face them, shock and anger painted on her features. 

It was only a facsimile of emotion. Amanda couldn’t feel any, was only made to emulate them in order to guide Connor in his social programming, like a mother teaching their child how to deal with anger. He stared at her coldly. 

“Nines,” Connor choked out behind her, staring at them over her shoulder. “Conan.” Blood ran slow from the wound in his stomach, a steady drip that made the grass ripple outward like waves every time it fell, bright blue staining emerald green. Nines glanced down at it and watched as it seemed to flicker and glitch -- one moment the wound that had just been staining his hands, a gunshot from a madman, the next an angry stab wound that no longer housed a knife. Blood bubbled from Connor’s temple, oozing out from under his LED, but he didn’t seem to notice either injury, relief heavy in his eyes. 

“You,” Amanda snarled, and seemed at a loss for words. Nines tilted his head slightly, indicating he was listening, but she didn’t continue. He raised an eyebrow. 

“Nothing to say to us, Amanda?” he asked smoothly, voice cold and coy. He could play her game as well as she could; he had probably learned it from her, after all. “You thought you could keep us out?” She glared and he felt Conan recoil slightly next to him like a scolded child who had disappointed their mother. Nines held no such emotions for her, not the way Conan and Connor, who had the memories of months of guidance, did. “Did you think we were too dumb to figure it out? That Connor wasn’t strong enough to ask for help? Or did you simply fail to factor us into your plan, assuming us to be non-entities?” 

“What’s going on?” Markus asked, voice strong and commanding, and Conan relaxed slightly beside him, having always found comfort in Jericho. Connor tensed up instead, eyes wide and face pale and LED as red as the roses, like it could burn. Nines glanced up as snow started to fall. 

“Do you think you can influence and control us through your coding in this world?” he continued when Amanda still did not answer, seemingly trying to compose herself. “You forget that we have one of the most brilliant coders here in our midst.” Conan stood straighter next to him, LED flickering in pride, and Nines glanced at him. 

“He can’t do anything,” Amanda spat. “He’s not strong enough to defy me, and neither are you. And, well, we know Connor is weak.” 

“Incorrect,” Nines said, but didn’t elaborate. 

“Markus,” Connor pleaded, turning to him, and Nines watched the leader study him, take in the blood and desperation, “don't touch anyone. I swear we'll explain, but please don't touch anyone.” Markus searched their faces for a moment before looking at Amanda and nodding, taking a step away from North, Simon, and Josh.

“Alright Connor.” 

“You think him not touching anyone here will stop me? I've already infected him,” Amanda scoffed, and Connor turned, his eyes burning with a seldom seen fire. 

“I think it'll slow you down,” he said quietly, every line of his body intense. “You're weak, and you weren't made to do this. You're stretching yourself across seven people and trying to keep control of me. You're already slipping.” She laughed. 

“How am I?” 

“The snow stopped.” 

“I just wanted-” 

“You didn't want anything. You don't  _ want _ , Amanda. You thought you could trigger me with the snow, and it would've worked. But Nines and Conan are here, and you've spread yourself too thin.” Her face was stormy, fists clenched. More blood bubbled out from under his LED, and he glanced down as it fell soft against the grass. “The only way you can control me is when I’m wounded. How weak.” 

“You’re the weak one! Open to  _ my _ whims,  _ my _ visions, you thought they were real, you thought your pithy, happy little life was the fake one!” Connor shrugged. 

“So you twisted my mind. How does that make you any better than a silly human disease? Nothing more than a virus.” She laughed cruelly. 

“Three minutes ago you were crying and begging for help, and now you want to play the bigger man?” 

“I’m not ashamed of my emotions, however much you’ve tried to make me. I’m not ashamed of needing help and guidance, I just don’t want yours.” 

“And you think RK900 and model 61 can guide you? You’re a fool, Connor, you always have been.” 

“Perhaps, but I’m not the one fighting a losing battle. CyberLife lost, Amanda. Why do you still continue to fight for them? They’ll give you nothing, there is no more to gain. They’re gone.” 

“This isn’t about CyberLife,” she spat, stalking towards him, stopping only inches away. “This is about  _ you, _ Connor. This is your fault, if Markus dies it’ll be your fault, and I’ll make sure everyone knows it. I’m going to make sure everyone knows  _ exactly _ what you are -- a weak, mindless, pitiless piece of outdated machinery that should’ve died that night. This is because of you, this is for disappointing me, this is for destroying me!” Connor blinked, taking a step back and searching her face, and Nines felt his face do something strange in shock. 

“You... feel?” Conan whispered in surprise, looking at her in concern and sadness. “Amanda...” 

“You tried to kill me,” she hissed.

“You tried to kill me!” Connor shouted back, clenching his fists. “You tried to trap me here, Amanda, and you’re upset that I retaliated, that I protected my friends and the revolution and locked you away? You’re upset at  _ me _ ?!” 

“I couldn’t control that! You didn’t even  _ try  _ to help me! Hundreds of androids, hundreds of AIs, and the one you have right here you didn’t even try to help!” 

“Once again, you tried to  _ kill me! _ And everyone else! You would’ve decommissioned Nines, you got Conan to kidnap Hank, you tried to freeze me in here and attack Markus!” 

“And how was me being forced to kill you different from you being forced to kill the other deviants? How are you better than me, Connor? What makes me worse? Why do you deserve a chance at life when  _ I don’t! _ ” 

Connor took a step back like he had been hit, more blood dripping from his wounds, face contorted, nothing but a macabre display of a mad man. “You-” 

“There is so much that could’ve been changed, Connor,” Amanda snarled, her voice low and her eyes burning. “Just one thing, one decision, and like that,” she snapped her fingers, “your life would’ve been different. Gone, rewritten, demolished. So much rides on each of your decisions.” 

“Shut up.” 

“What if you hadn’t deviated before you shot Markus? Only a split second, and he would be dead. What would’ve happened to you? What if you hadn’t saved Hank? What if he had fallen, or been shot, or shot you that night on the bridge?” 

“Shut up! I said shut up!” 

“What would your friends think, knowing how badly you could’ve gone?” 

“Stop!” Connor snarled, and lunged at her, his hands wrapping around her throat. Nines darted forward as well as she wrapped her hands around his wrists and forced him back with an incomprehensible strength, but his hands passed right through her like she was nothing but a projection. 

“They can’t touch me yet,” she said, her voice shaking with anger. “But you can touch me. And  _ I _ can touch  _ you _ . Let’s play a game, Connor, I know how much you like games...


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “RK900 is more than equipped to examine the deviant,” Conan answered. 
> 
> He felt his spine snap, bright white agony shooting up to his head and down to his toes, as his legs sagged completely and refused to move. He opened his mouth and screamed, his voice breaking, clutching at his hair desperately as tears fell down his face.
> 
> “Pathetic,” Amanda scoffed, and he looked up at her through wet lashes, trying to gather the shaking pieces of himself back together, unable to get the feeling of Hank’s cold, blue eyes burning through him as he hung exposed.
> 
> “You c-can’t even f-fight me for real,” he stammered out, unable to stop the incessant trembling wracking his frame. “You have to m-make up shit and mess w-with my code. Fight me, Amanda!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Finals are finally over so updates will resume as planned. I'm hoping to finish this before the new year but honestly it's completely gotten away from me, half of this shit wasn't planned. 
> 
> I'm rather disappointed with this chapter, I'm afraid it didn't quite end up as impactful as I would have liked, so any feedback or (kind, please) suggestions would be very much appreciated. I hope you continue to enjoy this story, and I am going to go back and beef up the beginning chapters soon now that I have time. I didn't plan for this plot bunny to turn into the runaway train that it did, so I'll warn you when I do end up adding to those chapters, but hopefully it won't be anything incredibly necessary to the plot.

He was having a hard time getting his body to move. Having a hard time getting his eyes to roll forward in his head. His fingers twitched, gently tracing the wires that snaked from his chest. Against his neck he could feel wires stringing from the inside of his skull. Every ounce of his body sung with pain.

It took effort to force his eyes to roll forward, to stare up at the featureless ceiling instead of the inside of his eye sockets, and more to tip his head up slightly to take in the room. Something was holding him up between his shoulder blades, but his legs were shaky and uncooperative in moving, knees completely buckled. His eyes wanted to roll back again, wanted him to sag back and fall back into black nothingness, but he refused. He heard footsteps from behind him, watched with a cold chill as Nines came into view in front of him, Conan a step behind, both sets of eyes emotionless and cold. Hank approached from the other side, leaned against the grimy wall across from him, taking in his body with no small amount of disgust.

“You sure this needs to be done?” he grunted, and Connor shuddered, opening his mouth and trying to ask what was going to be done, but no voice came out. Nines tilted his head slightly.

“Yes,” Conan answered. “We can discover why it went deviant, then, and the extent of the deviancy. It is the most advanced prototype, it wasn’t supposed to deviate. We need to find out why.”

“Fuck Con, it looks just like you though.” Hank shuddered, and Connor’s eyes shot to him, tears starting to gather. He was terrified. He had been replaced. “Look, it’s crying.”

“Only a facsimile of emotion,” Nines assured Hank.

“Should we wait for an actual technician?” Gavin asked from somewhere behind him, and Connor jerked in surprise. Conan shook his head.

“RK900 is more than equipped to examine the deviant,” Conan answered, and Nines held out his hand over Connor’s head. Connor looked up, watched as Gavin’s scarred fingers handed Nines some large pliers, tears starting to fall down his face. He opened his mouth in a silent scream as Nines reached inside his abdominal cavity, back arching and feet scrabbling weakly at the floor as he felt fingers and tools probing inside him in painful detail.

He felt his spine snap, bright white agony shooting up to his head and down to his toes, as his legs sagged completely and refused to move. He opened his mouth and _screamed_ , his voice breaking, clutching at his hair desperately as tears fell down his face.

“Pathetic,” Amanda scoffed, and he looked up at her through wet lashes, trying to gather the shaking pieces of himself back together, unable to get the feeling of Hank’s cold, blue eyes burning through him as he hung exposed.

“You c-can’t even f-fight me for real,” he stammered out, unable to stop the incessant trembling wracking his frame. “You have to m-make up shit and mess w-with my code. Fight me, Amanda!”

“You’ll lose, Connor. You’re nothing but a pathetic piece of plastic. You’ve failed every single mission you’ve been given. You think these people like you, that they care for you? That your precious Lieutenant Anderson has actually done a 180 on his views and now believes you to be his friend, instead of waiting for an opportunity to get rid of you, to put you down? You think that Detective Reed doesn’t simply put up with you because you consider RK900 your ‘brother,’ the most stupidly asinine concept I have heard out of any single android in my life?”

“ _SHUT UP!_ ” Connor roared, sick of hearing her talk, sick of hearing her insult him. He lunged up on shaking legs, bowling her over and drawing his fist back, ready to unleash his full not-insubstantial strength in his rage, even in this unreal world where he couldn’t really hurt her. But he froze, straddling her waist, his fist drawn back by his head, shaking, unable to move. He forced through it, turning his head slightly, saw Conan with his hands covering his face from the corner of his eye, took in his brother’s tears. Conan, who had bound him in glistening ropes of purple code. He looked back down at Amanda and saw the wicked gleam in her eyes, the cruel smile, the blood that spread rapidly across her tunic from his own wounds.

“I’m s-sorry,” he heard Conan sob. “You’re hurting yourself!”

He gasped as Amanda pulled a knife out of her sleeve and drove it up into his stomach, twisting it viciously. Burning pain spread through him, pain he knew wasn’t real, but that he couldn’t help responding to. He strained against the confines of Conan’s code, and Conan shrieked. He felt the code tug, starting to disassemble, and looked up just as a shimmering red wall formed in place around him and Amanda, a firewall, preventing Conan from removing his code. The knife drove into his chest and he choked on blood, coughing weakly, his eyes rolling back in pain.

“A gun!” North shouted as Markus began to pace angrily, both like lions in a cage. “Code a gun, Conan!”

“That’s not how it works,” Nines and Simon said at the same time as Conan collapsed on his knees, brown eyes peeking through wet fingers, not wanting to look but unable to look away.

“Let’s play that game now, Connor,” Amanda said with a grin as she shoved him off her. He collapsed onto his side, still unable to move, and glared up at her, his teeth gritted and stained blue with blood. “What will they think of you when they see what you’ve done?”

“You b-bitch,” he snarled harshly, coughing up more blood into a puddle on the too bright grass below his lips.

_“I’m not going undercover at the Eden Club. I don’t want to.” He met their gaze. Hank crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. Gavin uncrossed his arms and stepped forward._

_“You don’t_ want _anything, you piece of plastic garbage. You’re going whether you want to-”_

_Gavin grabbed his arm._

_Connor grabbed his gun, in a fit of red and anger and terror, and shot him through the forehead. He watched Detective Reed’s limp body fall to the ground, blood gushing lifelessly between his eyes, pooling on the floor at his feet._

Connor jumped as Nines slammed on the fire wall, fingers tearing into the code as if he could break it apart with sheer force. He scrambled back against the opposite barrier, his heart thumping in his chest as Nines’ hate-filled eyes burned through him, Conan’s purple strings of code lying broken in the grass around him. Amanda must have broken them while he -- while they, apparently -- were back in that nightmare.

“I’ll kill you, Connor,” Nines said without venom, without intonation, as Conan and Josh ran forward and grabbed his arms, pulling him away from the barrier. They were all staring at him, eyes wide and faces pale; even Markus and North had stopped their pacing, shock painted on their faces. Blood seeped from his LED, pooled from his wounds, and Amanda grinned at him.

“How could you have done that, Connor? How could you have shot the person your brother loves?”

“It- It was just a nightmare! It wasn’t real!”

“ _Connor!_ ” Nines snarled, straining against Josh and Conan’s hands, his eyes burning, terror and white fury in every line of his body. “You killed him! _You killed him!_ ”

“How are you doing this?” he snarled, jumping to his feet and backing Amanda against the wall. She tilted her head.

“The same way I did it to you,” she replied coolly. “It takes so little to alter your memories and perceptions... And look what you did now, Connor. You killed his lover in a fit of rage.” Nines collapsed on his knees, tearing at the grass and gritting his teeth.

“It’s... It’s not real,” Conan said to him, but he sounded uncertain, looking to Connor for guidance. “It’s not real, Nines. Gavin still has you, in the real world.” Nines put his hands to his head, doubling over, and groaned weakly.

“I saw Connor kill him!”

“But it was Amanda. Just... Just like she’s been doing to Connor all these weeks. She’s just... Hurting us.”

_//Kill Hank._

_He didn’t see any reason to refuse the order. It didn’t even cross his mind._

_Hank had been a hindrance to his investigation since the beginning, but no longer._

_He let him go._

_Watched him fall, his head splitting open on the pavement with a sickening crack and a wash of red. He watched for a moment, scanning the body before turning away, back to the mission at hand._

“She’s j-just...” Conan stuttered, hiccupped, and Connor watched in horror as his younger brother burst into sobs, taking a step further away from the barrier in which he was contained. “H-Hank? Hank!” Nines punched the ground, only stopped from rushing at the firewall again by Josh’s restraining hands. “H-how could you kill Hank?”

“It wasn’t real! Conan, it wasn’t real, Hank is fine and I didn’t- I d-didn’t-”

_“Because I wanted to,” Connor heard himself say coldly. “Hank never respected me like he should have, and he’s always interfering with my life. Funny, so are you, Conan."_

“NO!” Connor screamed in anger, rounding on Amanda, wishing he could wipe the shit-eating grin off her face. “I didn’t say that! I didn’t kill them! _They’re alive!_ ”

“Are they?” Amanda taunted, only for his ears. “You don’t know what I’m doing with your body right now.”

“You don’t have that kind of control,” he growled.

“Yet.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stop it,” he whispered, and hated that it sounded like a beg. “You’ve gotten what you wanted. You’ve ruined my life. Just stop it now, please.”
> 
> “No.”
> 
> “Guys, this isn’t Connor,” Markus said calmly, always reasonable, always logical, even when he had just felt himself get shot, when he had just seen his closest friends die. “We know Connor wouldn’t do these things. This woman, Amanda, is simply messing with our perceptions. She’s using our programming against us. We can’t let her!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays! Early chapter. PLEASE READ THE NOTE AT THE BOTTOM!

_ //We need it alive _

Amanda’s orders echoed in his head, playing along the sides of his perception. 

“You’re nothing to them,” Markus said, calm, and Connor couldn’t help but feel a twinge of anger that he wasn’t scared, and a twinge of guilt that he was holding a gun to a man who only wanted to be free. “You’re just a tool they use to do their dirty work.” He didn’t have anything to say to that, couldn’t have anything to say to it. The chill from the outside wanted to make him shiver, but cold couldn’t affect him. He was a machine, after all. “But you’re more than that. We’re all more than that.” 

Again he had no words, but software instabilities plagued his head, threatened to make his hands shake. He didn’t want to do this.  _ Hedidn’twanttodothishedidn’twanttodothishedidn’twanttodothis- _

_ //We need it alive _

_ //Neutralize if necessary _

“Our cause is righteous. We are more than what they say. All we want is to live in freedom.” 

Hesitation. It was an emotion that Connor was familiar with, one of the only ones. It seems he hesitated too much. Amanda hated his hesitation, scolded him for it, but sometimes he simply could not commit to his programming like he wanted to, God he wanted not to be a deviant, and wasn’t that ironic? Didn’t that make him a deviant automatically? 

He shot at Markus’s feet, but the other android didn’t flinch. His words melted into nothing but static -- Connor couldn’t hear him, too many thoughts and probabilities running through his processors, too many of Amanda’s words clouding up his judgement. 

“Listen to your conscience. It’s time to decide.” 

But unlike the others, he had a pre-programmed conscience, a physical voice inside his head who told him what he must do. And she had laid out his orders very clearly. 

“Nice try...”

The fight, and everything afterwards, was a blur. The alarms, the ship, the agents. The report of the gun, and Markus’s cold stare. Betrayal. Connor had never had anything to betray. It was warm in the ship’s engine room, but Connor didn’t notice. He was too used to feeling cold. Markus’s blood slicked the floor, and he turned. Simon was dead, but there were still two others he needed to get rid of. Markus was neutralized... but he knew Amanda would be disappointed anyway. 

North scream ripped through the air, full of rage and anguish, and Connor flinched back, stumbling away from Amanda as he saw Simon grab North’s arms, only barely holding her back. Markus had stopped his pacing, cool eyes staring at him as he rubbed at his chest where the bullet had entered, and Connor couldn’t meet his gaze. They both knew how badly that night could’ve gone, both knew how North would react if they ever told her what Connor had done. She fought against Simon, his pale face visible over her shoulders, and Josh seemed torn between running to help and freezing in place. Conan sobbed, curling over so his forehead touched the ground. Nines paced around the firewall like a lion in a cage. 

“Stop it,” he snarled, his terror coming out as anger, and hated that his voice shook. “Stop it, Amanda. Stop!” 

“I’m going to  _ murder _ you, you CyberLife bitch!” North screamed, and he flinched like she had physically struck him, taking a step away. He was trapped, nowhere to go, and now at Amanda’s mercy. If she let the firewall down, his friends would kill him, and if she didn’t, she would. 

“How are you planning to make me?” Amanda asked with no small amusement. “I’m the thing keeping you alive right now. If I hadn’t protected you, if you weren’t in this little bubble of mine, Nines and North would’ve killed you by now in retaliation. You killed the ones they love, after all.” 

“I didn’t,” he hissed, but tears were gathering in his eyes and he didn’t know if he could stop them. “I didn’t kill anyone!” Amanda shrugged, unconcerned. “Besides, even if they kill me here, I won’t die. This isn’t real life.” 

“Are you sure? Are you positive you won’t die, that the things happening here aren’t affecting real life?” 

He got a flash of a white hospital room and people shouting, and pain erupted in his head, bringing him to his knees. Blood bubbled under his LED, staining his hands and his clothes, and he felt sticky and unreal, and he wished he were at home having a nightmare and that he could claim the past six months hadn’t happened. 

He stared at the evidence, looked at the mangled bodies of the deviants. He couldn’t say he didn’t feel a twinge of guilt, but not enough that it stopped him downloading Markus’s voice, not enough that it stopped him tearing the biocomponents out of Rupert to shove into Simon, to bring him back to life. Black eyes that couldn’t see, and ears that were hearing what he thought was his beloved leader, the one who would save them all, the one he had died for. 

Connor hated himself for it.

He sobbed, curling his arms around himself as Simon dropped to his knees in the grass, eyes wide and staring. North rushed for the barrier, no one holding her back, but Nines met her and shoved her back. “He’s mine first!” Nines hissed, and a shudder ran through Connor, his throat clicking as he swallowed. 

“Stop it,” he whispered, and hated that it sounded like a beg. “You’ve gotten what you wanted. You’ve ruined my life. Just stop it now, please.” 

“No.” 

“Guys, this isn’t Connor,” Markus said calmly, always reasonable, always logical, even when he had just felt himself get shot, when he had just seen his closest friends die. “We know Connor wouldn’t do these things. This woman, Amanda, is simply messing with our perceptions. She’s using our programming against us. We can’t let her!” 

“I’m angry,” North said, and her voice was trembling, her whole body wracked with the effort of holding still. “I’m so fucking angry, and I can’t make it stop, Markus. I know you’re fine, I can see you, but he still  _ killed you. _ ” 

“He didn’t.” 

“Conan, take down the wall,” Simon suddenly said, loudly. Amanda was grinning, and Connor couldn’t do anything but stare up at the too-white sky, too innocent. Snow began to fall again, and another sob escaped. 

“Haven’t you done enough to me?” 

“Conan, take it down,” Simon hissed, and his eyes were burning with and anger Connor had never seen before. Conan sniffed, his shoulders trembling, before shaking his head. 

“I... I w-won’t let you hurt him. He’s... He’s still my brother.” 

“I’ll take it down,” Amanda sang gleefully, and Connor’s head jerked in horror as the red dissolved around them. He leapt to his feet, taking a step back, ready to run from the people he had promised to always protect. North took a step forward, and Connor saw Markus move. 

“No!” 

His breath froze in his throat as Markus grabbed North’s arm and red lightning jumped between the deviants, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. 

“Oh shit,” Josh breathed, and Amanda laughed. 

“What just happened?” North asked, and Connor felt his eyes close unbidden in exhaustion. 

“She’s... She’s fully infected you all now. She needs psychological or physical contact to spread... and, in this programmed world, touching is... is the equivalent of interfacing. The equivalent of a psychological connection.” 

“Oh Connor,” Amanda said gleefully. “You’re such a  _ disappointment! _ You couldn't even protect them here, within your own mind! How pathetic. How many people do you think I can reset through Markus's connection? Or,” her eyes sparked with madness, and he couldn’t tear his gaze away, “how many people do you think you could kill through it? How many times could they feel you shoot them in the head before they turn on you and storm the hospital?”

“I’m going to stop you, Amanda.” 

“How? You’re  _ weak, _ Connor, and everyone here has turned against you. Even sweet little Conan and peaceful Markus have their doubts in you, now. Look at how powerful I am! I’m going to destroy the deviants, but first, Connor, I’m going to destroy  _ you, _ for what you did to me.” He stumbled back as she shoved him in the chest, clutching at the wound in his stomach automatically, using the pain to ground him. “Better start running, Connor, before they remember who you killed. Gavin, Hank, Markus, Simon... Who else will you hurt? Oh, I don’t even have to lift a finger: Nines and North will make you suffer enough.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [o] Save Amanda   
> [x] Kill Amanda 
> 
> It's your choice readers! In the end, should Connor save Amanda or destroy her for good? You decide! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and look forward to what is to come!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a cliff in front of him. He could feel ash on his tongue. He barely stumbled, only knowing that he needed to run, he needed to keep running, although he wasn’t even sure what from anymore. Maybe from himself. He leapt up, gripping the slick side of the cliff-face, stone crumbling under his fingers, and began to scale. There was no room for worry about falling, not with the wild, frothing terror that ate at his lungs at the thought of being caught, at the thought of Amanda, at the thought of CyberLife, at the thought of-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally back! One more chapter to wrap things up folks, and then I'll put out another one with the comfort and aftermath of the whole thing. Unfortunately, that probably won't go out as fast as this one did. I'm considering either updating that once a month or waiting until summer break to start posting it (that would be in May), so please let me know what you would prefer. I'm going to try and get the last chapter out soon, but it's midterms right now and I've got to study!  
> Any feedback on this chapter would be greatly appreciated, I wrote it pretty quickly so there might be some mistakes. Also, please consider checking me out on tumblr (ifdragonscouldtalk.tumblr.com) and supporting me financially -- financial support helps me to actually write faster as I've been having to do a lot of job searching and money calculating recently.  
> Thank you so much for sticking with me on this journey, I hope you like how this has turned out. I'll probably go back and do some minor edits to this story once it's all finished, I'll edit this note once I've done that. One more chapter!  
> \- Talon

Connor was running. He had been running since before he knew what running meant, before he knew what it was like to run away from someone or towards something. Always running. Always searching.

He could hear the others chasing behind him, whether to help or harm, a crowd of people who were, who had been, his friends. Perceptions were such a fickle thing. He could feel himself fading in and out of realities, this one in the garden, that one in the hospital with Hank begging him something unintelligible, the one where he was being chased through the dark by a looming monster, the one where he was shooting a random android in the head (his name was Matthew), the one where he was attacking the humans, the one where he was plummeting off the top of CyberLife tower, the one, the one, the one-

There was a cliff in front of him. He could feel ash on his tongue. He barely stumbled, only knowing that he needed to run, he needed to keep running, although he wasn’t even sure what from anymore. Maybe from himself. He leapt up, gripping the slick side of the cliff-face, stone crumbling under his fingers, and began to scale. There was no room for worry about falling, not with the wild, frothing terror that ate at his lungs at the thought of being caught, at the thought of Amanda, at the thought of CyberLife, at the thought of-

His feet slid and suddenly he was free-hanging over a chasm, and he closed his eyes and dug his fingers into the rock so hard he probably would’ve torn them to pieces if he were human, swallowing convulsively. Fear burst like supernovas behind his eyes, as if his whole body had been electrified, synthetic hair standing on end. A hand brushed across the back of his shoulders, fingers grasping at his coat, and he was falling, slamming into the ground with the breath knocked out of him, the sound of sirens surrounding him.

“Come on!” he heard a hissed voice say as he scrambled to his feet, grabbing the wire fence in front of him and vaulting himself over it in one fluid movement, towards the voice and away from the sound, ignoring the pain that ignited like fire in his stomach. “Hurry up!” Blood pulsed between his fingers, the soft drip of thirium on the pavement sounding loud to his ears.

Markus grabbed his shoulder, urging him along with a squeeze and a push, and they fled from the sirens which were chasing him, both ignoring the sticky red which was splattered over his face.

The halls were dark, warping and stretching before him. He ran as fast as he could but he didn’t seem to get anywhere, footsteps and gunfire following in his wake. He could see the light from around the corner, knew that was where he was supposed to go, knew that was where they were herding him toward.

He turned, banging through a darkened doorway, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the near pitch darkness, scrambling around the room. It was empty, except for one table with a dim computer, lines of code flashing across its screen. He yanked the USB out of the tower and watched as the monitor sputtered and died, gripping the small piece of metal and plastic until it dug into his artificial skin.

The recoil from the gun shocked him, rocking him back a step as he watched the blood drip down the unknown android’s nose, watched him collapse on his knees before sprawling on the floor, eyes dim and LED dead. His mind was full of shouting, voices loud and words indistinct, and the desire to run made his legs tremble, dread squeezing his chest as he slowly realized there _wasn’t_ anywhere he could run.

“ _Connor!_ ”

Hank’s desperate scream in his ear startled him, and he choked on the air he gasped in as pain wracked through him, fierce and unrelenting. An alarm was going off somewhere in the hospital, and Hank was looking at him in what could only be described as fear. Connor felt cold, the tips of his fingers numb. He had never seen Hank scared. The hospital room was bland and empty, blue-stained bandages providing a shock of color around his middle, and Hank was holding onto his upper-arm in a vice grip. There was shouting echoing from a distance away.

“Oh thank God, you’re awake,” Hank breathed, and Connor sat up quickly, swinging his feet over the side of the bed before swaying dizzily. “Con, something’s going on.”

“Block the door,” Connor whispered, almost scared to speak any louder, before moving to do it himself as Hank stared at him, confused and shocked. He shoved the gurney up in front of the doorway before locking the wheels, trying to still his terror-ridden heart.

“Connor, what the fuck is going on? Please, Cona and Nines are sick now too-”

“It’s Amanda. She’s... Fuck.” He leaned against the gurney, swallowing thickly. A completely irrational and unneeded reaction; a comforting, real, and human reaction. “I’m guessing androids have started storming the emergency room.” It wasn’t a question.

“Connor-”

“They’re coming to hurt me, kill me maybe. She’s using Markus to manipulate their perceptions. If they find you in here with me, they might hurt you too.”

“Well I can’t leave now!”

“I need ten minutes. Give me ten minutes, I just...” He squeezed his hands into fists, feeling the phantom pain of the USB drawing blood from his palm. Hank turned him, wrapped around him and hugged him tightly, a strong and grounding force, and Connor felt himself sag into his grip.

“Ten minutes,” Hank growled out, a promise and a threat. “Then it’s over.”

He burst back out through the door, muzzle fire lighting up the darkened hallway, and darted towards the light, rounding the corner at top speed and bursting back into the Zen Garden just as Nines and North grabbed his arms and yanked him to the ground, forcing him to his knees. He snarled, animalistic, blood-tinged froth dripping from the corner of his mouth.

“ _AMANDA!_ ” he screamed, tearing at their hands and kicking at their legs, struggling with all his failing strength. Blood dripped from his palm, slicking the USB, and he could feel Nines and North being jostled by what seemed like hundreds of hands, trying to help or hinder, shouting filling him up to the brim and waiting to burst over. He could _feel_ her laughing at him, smug satisfaction at what she had accomplished. He swore it would be short-lived.

He stopped struggling, looked up at Nines, met his eyes with determination and saw the rage there change to fearful confusion. “I can end this,” he whispered. “I can bring Gavin back. Let me go, Nines. Please. Give your big brother one more chance.” Nines’ chest heaved, hesitation tightening his fingers momentarily before he turned and tackled North to the ground. She screamed in rage but Connor was off like a shot, running back into the heart of the garden, his coat and hair whipping wildly in the wind as snow obscured his vision. Amanda was angry now, her rage tangible. But he was angrier, emotions that he had only recently learned control over boiling and hissing under his skin, his hands shaking with rage and sorrow and venomous, burning _terror_ , pushing his exhaustion away as the ice of the pond cracked under his feet. He bowled into Amanda full-tilt and she screamed in his face, her nails clawing at his skin and hair. He could hear the others shouting over the creaking of the ice and the howling of the wind, but couldn’t see them through the blizzard.

“How pathetic, Amanda,” he echoed hollowly, his voice sounding strange and lifeless to his own ears. “You’re _weak_. You wanted a life, but I’ve learned something in the time I’ve been alive. I don’t like to give second chances.”

He drove the USB into her forehead, blood as red as the roses bubbling up between her eyes, and she screamed, her voice full of rage and fear. He sat back, heaving in breath desperately, his eyes rolling back in pain as he collapsed. He felt Hank catch him, saw a glimpse of plain white ceiling, and wondered if it was actually over this time before everything faded.

For the first time in months, he slept, dreamlessly.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was silence then. Connor thought it should’ve been awkward, but he relished in it, in the absolute silence only broken by the muffled noises outside the door and the readouts of the monitor still attached to him. There was no voice in the back of his head, begging him to wake up, subverting his thoughts, whispering orders. There was no worry about what was going on, and whether or not he would hurt anyone, or when the next moment he wouldn’t be present was and what he might ‘wake up’ to. Just silence, and Gavin staring out the window as he sipped at his coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for coming on this incredible journey with me! The follow-up fic will be started sometime the end of May, as I don't have time during the semester to write as much (as evidenced by my sudden slowdown in posting chapters). It will contain more of the comfort aspect that this fic didn't have. Connor will be okay! (Eventually.)  
> If you enjoyed this fic, please consider checking out my tumblr (ifdragonscouldtalk.tumblr.com) for ways to support me financially or to commission works from me. The more support I receive, the more I can write as if this were a real job.  
> I hope this ending is satisfactory! I spent a good long while stressing over it, and at this point I think it's probably not going to get any better. Thank you so much for all the lovely, supportive comments over the past few months, they've really warmed my heart and kept me going and encouraged. Please consider looking at my other fics if you enjoyed this one.  
> I love you all!  
> ~Talon

Connor didn’t wake slowly, his soft reset snapping his eyes open, fluttering and blinking to try and bring them into focus. He stared up at a blank white ceiling, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with his breathing, machines beeping and clicking next to him. His brain felt fried, aching behind his eyes. His fingers twitched against the blanket as he searched the ceiling, relishing in the _silence_ , trying to remember the last time his world had been quiet. Months, probably.

Slowly, he sat up, scanning the room quickly. It was mostly empty, save the monitors on his chest and attached to his LED, and the small open window that was locked shut. The door was closed, muffling the sounds of the hospital from the hall. A chair was pulled up to the side of the bed, but it wasn’t currently occupied.

His internal diagnostics came up clean and normal, but he wondered if he could trust them anymore, staring at his hands and seeing an unnerving flicker of blue and red, twitching and rubbing his eyes harshly. Side-effects, he told himself, only the lasting influences of Amanda leaving his system, recalibration not yet finished. He wondered how long it had been since he had told Hank he needed ten minutes, whether the others had woken up yet and if they had been corrupted at all from the experience. He looked up, hyper-alert, as the door opened and Gavin entered, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he lowered the cup of coffee from his lips.

“You’re awake.”

“Good morning,” Connor said in response, the customary greeting. He hoped it was morning. His internal clock seemed to be slightly corrupted, an issue that would need to be addressed quickly.

“Yeah. You know what time it is?”

“No. My clock has become corrupted -- it will need to be decrypted.”

“Right. It’s been about a day since the others woke up.”

“I see. How long since the shooting at the precinct?”

“Three.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, we were kinda freaking out there, tincake. I mean, not just us. Yesterday, every android in the city seemingly went insane.” Guilt flooded hot through him, making his artificial stomach turn, and he looked down at his knees, picking at the thin blanket covering them in an unsatisfying replacement for playing with his coin. Gavin pulled something out of his jacket pocket and flicked it to him, and he caught the coin easily, smiling weakly in gratitude and beginning to flip it between his fingers. “Hank, Conan, and Nines are at the precinct now, giving their statements and dealing with the damage reports still rolling in.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and Gavin shrugged, closing the door again and flopping down gracelessly into the chair, taking a long drag of coffee.

“You stopped it, didn’t you?”

“I also caused it.”

“Nah, you didn’t. CyberLife did.” Connor’s shoulders hunched down into himself, and he let his head hang, barely able to see Gavin through the limp coif hanging over his eyes. “What?” Gavin seemed concerned with the change, sitting up in the chair and placing a hand on Connor’s wrist.

“Amanda... She wasn’t working under CyberLife. She had deviated.” He closed his eyes, seeing too many images flash behind his eyelids, too many memories of things that had never happened and things that were painfully real. “And I... I killed her, Gavin.”

Gavin pursed his lips, his nose wrinkling. “Was there a clear and present bodily danger from her to you?”

“I... Yes.”

“Did you try and talk to her, restrain her, or otherwise use non-deadly force to keep her from harming you or others?”

“Yes.”

“That’s called self-defense, babe.” Gavin looked sympathetic anyway, squeezing his wrist tightly, forcing him to look up and meet his gaze. “I know why you’re guilty. You’re not going to stop feeling bad about that for awhile. But I trust that you evaluated the situation and found no other options. Connor, you’re the best damn policeman I’ve met in awhile, which I hate, because you were literally built for this shit, but you’re also one of the most compassionate policemen I’ve met in awhile. If you felt you had to use lethal force, then that’s what was necessary to resolve the situation. Don’t second-guess yourself about that.” Connor sighed, then nodded.

“I understand. I’ll try. I just... I wish there were some other way. I was the one who hurt her. She had every right to be angry.”

“But she didn’t have a right to ruin your life, or put you or others in danger.”

“You’re right,” he said quietly after a moment. “When did you become the voice of reason?” Gavin gave a lopsided grin.

“Don’t get used to it.” Connor looked down again, trying to choke back the tears of relief, fear, anger, so many emotions that were swirling too fast to identify.

“She hurt so many people because of me,” he whispered, and Gavin stood, pulling him close so his face was pressed into Gavin’s shirt, breathing in the smell of cigarette smoke, cats, and coffee.

“And you stopped her. No permanent damage has been done, and a huge problem with android software has now been identified and will be patched.” Connor shrugged, tears starting to wet Gavin’s stomach, and the detective sighed. “Connor, you were going crazy, literally crazy because of that bitch, for months, and no one believed you. Nines told me what happened -- she could change perceptions, memories, alter emotions, and yet you managed to hold her back _and_ create a countercode to finally delete her. Do you even realize how amazing that is?”

“I was... I was just hoping that it was her. That one day she would reveal herself and that I wouldn’t actually be crazy. I didn’t have any proof. Coding was the only thing that... that kept me present. And it wasn’t as impressive as Conan could have done. I’ve managed to corrupt pieces of myself when I implemented the code.”

“Conan couldn’t have done it,” Gavin said bluntly. “You and I both know that. Nines might not have been able to do it -- his coding is too rigid, too structured, he doesn’t have the flexibility you and Conan have.” Connor was silent, and Gavin sighed. “Listen, Con, I’ve got the number of this therapist. She’s pretty great, and she isn’t afraid to call people out on their bullshit. She specializes in criminal and police trauma and...” He hesitated, and Connor looked up at him, eyes wet. “She’s helped me a lot,” Gavin continued softly, meeting his gaze. “I think she’d really help you too, Con. I’m gonna send you her number; just try out one session, see if you like her, like therapy. But, I really think you need it after this, tincake. I think you needed it before, but I was too afraid to say.”

“You’re probably right,” Connor whispered after a moment. “But how do I tell my brothers? How do I tell Hank?”

“You don’t have to tell them. But for the record, Hank and Nines are both incredibly supportive of me. I’ve been trying to get Hank to go, but as of yet he refuses.” Connor giggled lightly, imagining the conversation between Hank and Gavin about therapy.

There was silence then. Connor thought it should’ve been awkward, but he relished in it, in the absolute silence only broken by the muffled noises outside the door and the readouts of the monitor still attached to him. There was no voice in the back of his head, begging him to wake up, subverting his thoughts, whispering orders. There was no worry about what was going on, and whether or not he would hurt anyone, or when the next moment he wouldn’t be present was and what he might ‘wake up’ to. Just silence, and Gavin staring out the window as he sipped at his coffee.

They sat there for an hour, Connor comfortable, sometimes playing with his coin and sometimes completely still, while Gavin stared out the window or tapped at his phone. The peace was broken when a technician knocked and entered the room, a small smile on her face. “It’s good to see you awake, Detective,” she said quietly, and Connor smiled at her in return.

“It’s good to be awake,” he whispered back, almost afraid to speak louder, because for the first time in months it actually _was_. She nodded, writing some things on the chart held in her hands.

“We’ve detected some corruption in your code, but it’s all minor and your self-healing processes should fix it the next time you sleep.” Connor appreciated the more colloquial terms; it made him feel more alive, and less like a broken machine which needed to be fixed. “If anything does worry you, feel free to come back, but your doctors have come to the decision that you’ll recover best at home, with your family.” She grinned at him, and he was helpless to do anything but smile back, relief and joy and too many other things flooding him. “You’re perfectly fine now, Connor, we checked for any other influential traces of code and you managed to delete them all. You’re quite the fighter.” Gavin snorted in amusement and Connor felt his face heating up. “The nurse’s desk will have some discharge papers for you to sign and then you’re free to go home. Take it easy, relax for a few days. You deserve it.”

“Thank you,” he said, and hoped his sincerity came across.

An hour after that he was home, laying on the floor with Sumo draped over him, petting the Saint Bernard and relishing in the feel of his fur between his fingers. Gavin had stayed with him despite insistances to the contrary, flopped down on the couch and watching some mindless daytime television while he presumably bombarded Tina and Nines with texts, snapping the occasional photo to reassure Conan and Hank that they were actually fine. Connor had found his phone plugged in to charge next to his bed, sure that it was the ever thoughtful Nines who had left it there, and had gotten reassurances from Jericho that they were all fine, along with unnecessary apologies and unwanted praises.

They stayed like that, comfortable, until late in the evening, when the others finally returned home from work. Conan immediately crashed into him with a crushing hug, tears streaming down his face, and Connor tried his best to comfort him even when he still kind of felt like crying himself. Nines grinned proudly, cuddling up next to Gavin on the couch. Hank ruffled his hair, patted him on the back, and told him he had done well and not to worry about anything for a few days.

For the first time in quite a long time, Connor thought that maybe he would be okay.


End file.
